


Strawberry Bubblegum

by rightofpostponement



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Light Angst, Love at First Sight, M/M, Pining, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8853523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightofpostponement/pseuds/rightofpostponement
Summary: Smile, skate, win. Wash, rinse, repeat. It grew so mundane, after a while. Years and years of being at the top inevitably soured the view, no matter how beautiful. Victor was tired; tired of trying to surprise people, tired of living without love, and tired of making history without anyone to share it with. It takes one night, one dance, and 16 flutes of champagne for Victor's life to be flipped on its head.  A soulmates au





	1. Chapter 1

Victor paced his apartment. Ten steps forward, turn, eight steps back, turn. Repeat. Waiting, waiting, waiting, the clock ticked. It was an antique, ugly thing; a gift from a forgetful great-aunt some Christmases ago. If he squinted hard enough the chipped wood and peeling paint blended together, transforming the sad, old clock into something beautiful and timeless, an otherworldly treasure. The ticking continued, its staccato beat worming its way into his ear and settling somewhere around his temple, thrumming uncomfortably.

 

The knock on his door came as no surprise. It was time, after all. He turned on his heal, his pacing interrupted on step six. He quickly crossed the small room and peered through the peephole, a residual habit from an anxious childhood. Yakov scowled at him through it, knowing Victor had his eye pressed against the glass.

 

“Hurry, Vitya,” he barked. “We’ll be late. Again.” Yakov hated Victor’s last minute napping habit, but it had become almost like a good luck charm at this point; he couldn’t break it now, right before the Grand Prix final banquet.

 

He felt unusually despondent as he shrugged into his suit jacket, the dark gray a mellow contrast against the crisp white of his dress shirt. Normally before a banquet he’d be rearing to go; jittery yet brimming with confidence, excited to meet his fellow skaters and prove himself off the ice. But lately his drive had been . . . lacking, to say the least.

 

The world didn’t seem as vivid, as vibrant as it had when he was younger. Colors weren’t as bright; emotions didn’t have the same depth as they did even a year ago. Victor had always strived to be the best: the best student, the best son, and, perhaps most importantly, the best figure skater in the world.

 

But now that he really was the best in the world, as attested to by his five gold medals, what was next? He could keep winning medals, probably for several more years. Although he was getting older, Victor had no doubt that he could still be competitive for a few more seasons. He had reached the top, and realized that although the view was nice, it lost its luster after a while, just like anything else.

 

The ride to the banquet was quiet, Yakov picking up on Victor’s mood, who sat staring out the window, arms crossed. Yuri was bent over his phone, looking distinctly uncomfortable in his formal suit, tugging incessantly at his tie. It was probably the first time he’d ever worn one, Victor mused.

 

Mila talked to Georgi quietly in the backseat, occasionally letting out a loud laugh. Victor liked his fellow skaters on the national team, even if Georgi was too far into his head most of the time and Mila couldn’t be serious for the life of her. And of course Victor had a huge soft spot for moody, prickly Yuri, all gnashing teeth and growled threats that hid a mushy interior, eager to please and be loved.

 

“How’s Anya?” he heard Mila ask, her mirth barely contained. Victor tried not to gag as Georgi sighed dreamily, launching into yet another story of his beloved soulmate. Victor was happy for him, truly he was. He could think of nothing more thrilling than listening to yet another story about Anya; about how gracefully she danced across the ice, or how beautiful she looked during their first meeting, when she said those fateful words scrawled across Georgi’s ankle: _“Pardon me, but do you know this city well?”_

 

It was love at first sight, Georgi claimed. He swore up and down that it didn’t matter that the phrases inked onto their bodies just so happened to line up, and that he knew Anya was the only one for him before she even opened her mouth, that even if their words didn’t line up they would still be together.

 

Nearly everyone said that. That they just _knew_ , they didn’t have to verify or see the words on their partner’s body with their eyes. Victor thought it was bullshit. How could you just know, before speaking, that you were made for someone else, perfect in every way? That’s what the words and ink were for, after all.

 

Victor hadn’t found his soulmate yet. It wasn’t unusual; there was no guideline or age limit to finding your perfect match. And just because everyone was guaranteed a person “perfect” for them in every way didn’t mean that things always worked out. Just look at Yakov and his ex-wife. Or Victor’s own parents.

 

Georgi was still waxing poetry about Anya when the car pulled up to the venue, a fancy restaurant with a large ballroom. Victor had been there once or twice; it was nice, but nothing special. He vaguely wondered how long he would have to stay and mingle in order to not be considered completely rude. 

 

Chris greeted him first, pressing a drink into his hand before he had a chance to remove his coat. Victor liked Chris; he was a great skater, a fun drunk, and a damn good friend. Normally Victor would grab the glass, drain it, and be ready for another within minutes, eager to make the normally stuffy ceremony go by faster and maybe cause a bit of mischief along the way. But he wasn’t feeling normal today. He hadn’t been feeing “normal” for a while now.

 

Victor discreetly put his drink down on a table after Chris flitted away, excited to mingle and meet other, newer skaters. He wasn’t in the mood to drink, not right after he’d won the final. And besides, _someone_ had to watch Yuri and make sure he didn’t sneak anything again. Victor shuddered at the tongue lashing he’d gotten at last year’s celebration when Yakov caught the then 13-year-old sneakily taking a sip of Victor’s vodka when his back was turned. Despite being convinced that Yuri had done it for no other reason than to get him into trouble, Victor was still on guard, and kept an eye open for the short blond, sulking moodily in a corner.

 

Victor made it a point to greet each skater that came to the banquet. Even if he had been feeling a bit off lately that didn’t mean he had an excuse to be rude and stand offish. He had already dealt with Chris, and a quick glance to the center of the room saw him entertaining a few of the female skaters. Michele Crispino was pleasant enough until his sister arrived. When Victor tried to introduce himself to her Michele immediately excused them with a dirty look and a protective arm slung around her shoulders. Victor was an only child, and wondered briefly if that’s how all siblings acted or if they were special.

 

JJ was interesting, to say the least. Cocky, extroverted, and brimming with excitement. He came from a family of champion figure skaters; victory was in his blood. He was good, and he knew it. Just a two-minute conversation with the guy gave Victor a headache and he quickly excused himself. Maybe he did need a drink after all.

 

He saw Yuri by the champagne table and made a beeline over, determined to stop any shenanigans before they could begin. On his way to save Yuri from himself he ran into the Chinese representative, Cao Bin, who had come in fourth place. He was a reserved man who didn’t speak much. He congratulated Victor and quietly accepted Victor’s own compliments. They were in the middle of a quiet discussion about the upcoming World championship when the last men’s skater entered the party, the Japanese representative. Yuuri Katsuki.

 

“What’s wrong, Yuuri?” His coach asked loudly, a hand clasped on his shoulder. “You look so glum. Have you had anything to drink? To eat? There’s pizza. . . .” Victor could feel Yuri stiffen at his side, muttering under his breath about how there could “only be one.”

 

The Japanese Yuuri looked how Victor felt inside. Worn out, depressed, and like he had been dragged to the banquet against his will. At least this Yuuri had a reason for being upset. He had come in over 100 points behind Victor, and his routine had been sloppy, to say the least. Victor made it a rule to know his competitors and their strengths and weaknesses before big competitions. And something had happened to Yuuri Katsuki before the Grand Prix final. Normally his spins and step sequences were flawless, and while his jumps weren’t his strong suit, he never seemed scared to attempt them like he had been just hours before. 

 

Even though his shoulders were slumped and his eyes were downcast Victor couldn’t help but be intrigued by him. Yuuri’s presence was magnetic, and more than once Victor tried to politely excuse himself from his current conversation only to be swept into more small talk as more people entered, all wanting to talk to the champion.

 

Victor quickly lost track on the Japanese Yuuri as Yuri stole his attention by trying to snag a flute off a passing waitor’s tray. Their introduction would simply have to wait.

 

Forty-five minutes later found Katsuki Yuuri swaggering away from a table in the back of the hall, empty champagne glasses littering the surface. Victor watched in curiosity as he unknotted his tie and stumbled to the center of the room, swaying in time to the low, upbeat music playing softly in the background.

 

“What’s he doing?” Yuri scowled, looking unamused as he crossed him arms in disgust. Victor vaguely wondered what happened between the two of them, not looking away from Yuuri. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so enthralled with a person he had never met before; from the tapping of his foot to the swing of his hips. It was almost frightening, this connection he felt. And Yuuri hadn’t looked his direction once.

 

And oh look, Chris had appeared, holding a bottle in one hand and a phone in the other. They spoke for a brief moment before Yuuri grabbed the alcohol from Chris and took a large swig, face flushed red. Vaguely Victor wondered where his coach was, and why he wasn’t putting a stop to his behavior. But then Yuuri started to dance, turning Victor’s brain into a stupid mush.  

 

He got up close to Chris and his camera and started to move. Clearly drunk, Yuuri was grinning and laughing and taking huge gulps from the bottle, golden liquid flying from the opening to land on the floor every time he moved too quickly. Upon encouragement form Chris, he started to dance, kicking a leg in the air and leaping across the dance floor, people scrambling to get out of his way and moving in closer to take snapchats.

 

Victor could hardly believe his eyes when Yuri was suddenly pulled into the circle. His cry of indignation could be heard across the hall when Yuuri threw himself into a spin, legs outstretched. Yuri clearly got over his stage fright and his competitive streak came out in full force as he threw himself into an elaborate jump, attempting to keep up.

 

Deciding he couldn’t stand there passively anymore, Victor pushed through the ring of people surrounding the two and grabbed his phone. Grinning in delight he pushed close to Yuuri, balancing precariously on one hand as Yuri scowled and hopped on one leg. Yuuri suddenly looked up, straight into Victor’s eyes, and fell flat on his face.

 

Time didn’t stand still. The world didn’t stop spinning. But there was a spark. Something irreversible happened between the two of them; Victor loomed over Yuuri, a phone clutched in his hand, and Yuuri lay on his stomach like all the air had been knocked out of him, staring at Victor with big, shining eyes.

 

The moment ended when Yuri yanked Yuuri up, unwilling for their impromptu dance battle to end. Yuuri started dancing again, but he didn’t take his eyes off Victor. Victor felt his heart speed up, and a dull warmth throbbed in his chest before heat bloomed in his cheeks. The way Yuuri danced, eyes only on him, made him _feel_ for the first time in what seemed like forever.

 

Victor wasn’t sure how it happened, but all of a sudden Chris was in front of Yuuri with a fucking _pole_. A slippery, shiny, silver _stripper’s pole_. And Yuuri was unbuttoning his pants, flinging them into the crowd, two girls fighting over who would get the honors of keeping them.

 

Yuuri’s legs were toned, tanned, and strong. His thighs were lithe and smooth, and as they gripped the pole Victor had to look away, his brain flat lining, mouth dry. _God_. Yuuri swung around a few times experimentally before Chris joined him, nearly naked except for tiny, tiny briefs around his hips. Chris gripped the pole in one hand and a bottle of liquor in the other, swinging around like a seasoned pro.

 

Inspired, Yuuri quickly discarded his shirt, making sure that it smacked Victor in the chest, who clutched at it desperately, as if it were really Yuuri and not a piece of fabric. Victor wasn’t sure how long they were on the pole for. It seemed like hours, his eyes hungrily tracing over all of Yuuri’s exposed skin. His strong arms, the rippling abs. His graceful hands, stretched out towards Victor, eyes seductive, the smirk on his face telling Victor he knew exactly what he was doing.

 

With a final flourish of his hips and a lasting caress to Chris’s back, Yuuri hopped off the pole, immediately walking to the fangirl holding his pants. After murmuring something to her that stained her cheeks red, he slipped his dress slacks back on, Victor’s mouth falling open as he stepped into the legs, shimmying his hips. Yuuri started to walk towards him, snagging another drink off a tray and draining it before slamming the glass down next to Victor.

 

With delicate fingers Yuuri took his shirt from Victor’s slack grip, and shrugged it on with a lazy roll of his shoulders. Victor followed Yuuri’s hands as they buttoned his shirt, unable to tear his eyes away as more and more skin was slowly covered up.

 

When Yuuri had finished redressing himself he raised a hand to Victor’s neck. A finger traced around his nape and down his throat, caressing his pulse point. Victor couldn’t catch his breath. Yuuri had stolen the air from his lungs, and he suddenly exhaled in a rush as Yuuri grasped his tie and yanked him forward, onto the dance floor.

 

Yuuri was drunk. Victor knew this, could smell the alcohol on his breath. But the way he was moving, fluid and elegant and beautiful, was unlike any drunk person Victor had ever seen. Yuuri clapped and slid, Victor following his lead, a huge smile on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy, the last time he’d felt so alive.

 

They leapt around, circling each other for a while. Tension was building between them, thick enough to cut. Victor knew people were watching them. Yuri, Chris, both their coaches, and god knows however many others. Seeing them come together and flit away, a complicated dance neither knew, making it up on the spot. And then they were touching, chest to chest, hip to hip. Yuuri spooning him from behind, lowering him into a dip. Victor’s hand pressed against Yuuri’s back, Yuuri’s palm pressed tenderly to his cheek. Both their smiles were so big their eyes crinkled, almost disappearing in their uninhibited joy.

 

Eventually Victor needed to take a breather. Yuuri’s stamina was incredibly, and Victor was out of breath trying to keep up. Victor made his way over to Yuri, a dopey grin plastered on his face; Yuri looked pissed, standing next to a still shirtless Chris.

 

“Wipe that disgusting look off your face,” Yuri spat, looking sweaty and disheveled from his recent dance battle. Chris laughed throatily, running a hand through his hair and looking behind Victor.

 

A force tackled him from behind and spun him around. The smell of champagne and something sweet wafted upwards . . . strawberry bubblegum? Victor looked down to see Yuuri plastered against him, tie now knotted around his head. His hips started to move, softly grinding against Victor’s own and making parts of him come alive in a violent rush.

 

“Victor,” he said, voice heavy with alcohol and lust. “After this season ends, my family runs a hot spring resort, so please come.”

 

Victor immediately went stiff as a board. He barely heard the rest of Yuuri’s comment. “If I win this dance battle, you’ll become my coach, right? Be my coach, Victor!”

 

Staring into Yuuri’s large, puppy dog eyes, he immediately locked his arms around soulmate. _His soulmate_. Because the words Yuuri just slurred were written in slanted handwriting across his ribs.

 

This boy Victor had just spent the night dancing with, this boy who brought color and fun back into Victor’s life, was his soulmate. Perfect for him in every way. And Victor had subconsciously known. The magnetism, the inability to look away from each other the entire night. It was everything everyone told him it would be.

 

“Nothing would make me happier,” Victor said, gazing down at Yuuri . . . . drunk, drunk Yuuri. Victor gazed at him with adoration, heart filled with _something_ , feeling full enough to burst.

 

Those words evidently meant something to Yuuri. He jolted back before moving his head back from its resting place in Victor’s neck. “Victor, look at this,” he shouted, mouth gaping. He reached down, fumbling with the laces of his shoes, pulling his sock off. There, curling around his ankle, in very familiar handwriting, were the words Victor had just said. _Nothing would make me happier_.

  
“No one’s ever said those words to me before,” Yuuri said, eyes wide in awe, tie slipping down to cover more of his forehead. “Does this mean. . . .”

 

Victor didn’t care that the whole banquet hall had suddenly turned away when seconds earlier they’d had their cameras out. Soulmates were a private, intimate thing. Not for outsiders to eavesdrop on.

 

“Yes,” Victor breathed. “Yes!” he said louder, grabbing Yuuri around his waist and dipping him into another tango.

 

They both laughed helplessly, drunk on love and relief that they had found each other. “I can’t believe it,” Yuuri said, stroking Victor’s face. “I’ve waited so long. And to think it’s _you_. You’ve been my idol since your debut at juniors. I have poster of you in my room.”

 

Immediately Yuuri looked confused, as if he wasn’t sure why he had just said that. Victor suddenly wondered just how inebriated he was.

 

“Well I suppose I’ll just have to order some of you for my room the,” Victor purred in his ear, amused before dropping his lips to Yuuri’s ear and leaving a small kiss on the lobe. As Yuuri visibly shuddered Victor wondered if his half a glass of champagne had gone to his head; PDA of any kind was unlike him. Yuuri was messing with his head.

 

They held each other for the rest of the night, swaying back and forth. Victor teasingly started to ruck up his shirt to show Yuuri the words tattooed on his ribcage before Yuri scrambled over, barking and grabbing Victor’s suit coat, throwing it over his shoulders.

 

“We’re leaving now,” he said. “Yakov is sick of waiting for you. Let’s go.”

 

 “You’re leaving me?” Yuuri asked, his eyes suddenly much clearer than they had been all night. “But I just found you.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Victor quickly assured him. “But it is getting late. Maybe we should head back to the hotel.” Yuuri nodded, still plastered to Victor’s side. After darting away to tell his coach that he was heading back to the hotel, Yuuri skipped over to the Russian team, slipping his arms into the jacket Victor held out for him.

 

They sat in the very back of the SUV. Georgi was designated driver, the only one who had a license and didn’t drink; he’d been too busy facetiming Anya in the corner. Yuuri’s hand was on Victor’s thigh, stroking lightly. Yuri staring at them in horror, inching closer and closer to the window. Mila laughed carelessly from the back, tipsy. Yakov was dozing next to her, his weakness for vodka having overtaken his declaration of temperance within the first hour of the banquet.

 

“Yuuri, what’s your room number?” Victor asked quietly, Yuuri leaning heavily against him as they moved to the elevator, his rapid downing of champagne after champagne finally catching up with him.

 

“Mmmm 203,” he murmured sleepily, nuzzling into Victor’s neck as they entered the elevator. Yuri gagged loudly from behind them, punching the fifth-floor button rapidly, as if that would get him to his floor faster, away from Victor and Yuuri, quietly cooing to each other in the corner.  

 

They both exited on the second floor, Victor stumbling over their combined weight. He fumbled with Yuuri’s room key, procured with a wink and questionable fumbling. His room was nearly identical to Victor’s, the only noticeable difference being the view.

 

After depositing Yuuri into a giggling heap on the bed Victor made short work of removing his tie, still knotted in his hair, and pulling his shoes off. He resisted the urge to undress Yuuri any further, and instead flipped him over, running his hands through his hair soothingly.

 

“Will you stay with me?” he slurred sleepily, squinting as Victor removed his glasses and set them on the bedside table.

 

“Not tonight,” Victor said softly, drawing a glass of water from the sink in the bathroom and putting it down next to the glasses, knowing that Yuuri would be desperate for it in the morning.

  
“’Kay,” he mumbled, turning his face into the pillow.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Victor said tenderly with one last stroke to Yuuri’s back. “We have that last press conference, after all.”

 

Yuuri didn’t respond, and let out a soft snore. Victor smiled before forcing himself to his feel. The door closed behind him with a soft snick. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. 

 

* * *

  


Victor walked with Yuri out of the arena, his wise, worldly advice being strongly rebutted with a practiced, bored scowl. Feeling eyes upon him, he turned suddenly, seeing Yuuri staring at him wistfully. Victor’s heart immediately started pounding, and all of the blood in his body seemed to leave his brain, creating a faint whistling noise in his ears. Because Yuuri, his soulmate, the new reason for his life and love, was standing in front of him.

 

“A commemorative photo?” Victor asked teasingly, eyes lighting up at the sight of Yuuri. “Sure,” he answered quickly, stretching his hand outwards. He expected Yuuri to laugh and roll his eyes, or maybe blush over their unconventional meeting now that he wasn’t drunk. He expected Yuuri to throw himself into his arms, repeating his desire to have Victor coach him. And Victor would do it, wholeheartedly and without reservations.  

 

What he didn’t expect was for Yuuri to abruptly turn on his heal, grabbing his suitcase and wheeling it behind him in his haste to leave the arena. Victor couldn’t move. He stared dumbfounded after the love of his life as he . . . left. Walked away, as if Victor’s heart meant nothing to him. As if the ink, words, and feelings tying them together suddenly meant nothing.

 

Victor stared after him, dumbfounded. Had he changed his mind? Did he hate Victor for taking advantage of him while he was drunk? Was he disgusted with him, and decided he could never love someone as silly, as ridiculous, and as much of a workaholic as Victor?

 

Victor didn’t care that Yuuri was walking away from him. He cared about _why_. What had happened in the less than 10 hours they’d been apart? What had Victor done? Unable to get his voice to work, Victor watched in silent horror as the love of his life walked out the doors into the snowy night, the darkness and swallowing him.  


	2. Chapter 2

Victor threw himself into training after the Grand Prix Final. _Surprise, surprise, surprise_ he chanted to himself, a never-ending mantra that almost made him sick to his stomach. He didn’t let himself dwell on Yuuri, on that night in December. On how he watched his _soulmate_ turn on his heel and walk away. Victor still wasn’t sure why Yuuri was embarrassed of him, or why Yuuri decided he didn’t want to be with him. All he was certain of was that it hurt. A lot.

 

He forced himself to stay off the internet. The temptation to Google Yuuri was too great, and if Victor Nikiforov had anything going for him it was self-preservation. Sexy.

 

The different competitions passed him in a blur. After the GPF came the Russian Nationals, followed by the European Championships. He won both by a large margin, smiling and kissing his medal on the podium mechanically, keeping his mind carefully blank. It was bad enough that he’d shaped his entire free skate program around a man who abandoned him, it was worse that the only thing Victor could think of during the program was _Yuuri_.

 

No one analyzed his performance too closely. After all, _Stay Close to Me_ was beautiful, and the sweet lyrics and meaning behind them could be a reference to anything, especially with someone of Victor’s persona skating. During interviews he spouted out the same vague bullshit he always did, and after a while people stopped asking, choosing instead to obsess whether he could continue to achieve such high success at such an old age.

 

Worlds came around slowly, as if time was moving through molasses. It was being held in Tokyo. Which was in Japan. Which was where Yuuri lived. _Fuck_.

 

Sometimes Victor forgot that he’d met his soulmate and subsequently been rejected. After all, before he’d met Yuuri he’d never been in a rush to find his other half. He reasoned that if something was meant to happen it would in its own due course, so why bother worrying. But sometimes he’d find himself alone at night, longingly running his fingers lightly over his rib cage, tracing the black letter he now knew to be in Yuuri’s handwriting. _Victor, after this season ends, my family runs a hot spring resort, so please come!_

 

But Victor wasn’t a five-time World Champion for nothing. He could turn his brain off when it mattered. In Tokyo he forced himself to focus, pushing thoughts of Yuuri and his family hot spring resort to the back of his mind. He warmed up off the ice, practicing the arm movements and step sequences that didn’t require skates.  

 

He was the last to skate, as befitting of his large lead in the short program. He took to the ice dramatically, confidently, like nothing and no one could touch him. And they couldn’t, he convinced himself briefly as the crowd went crazy, cameras flashing and people screaming. Victor raised his arms above his head as he skated to the center of the rink, the cheers a heady drug that briefly numbed his apathy.

 

The program was flawless. Even he could admit that, and nobody was more critical of Victor’s performances than Victor himself. No matter how many times he’d skated the same spins, jumps, or step sequences, they felt fresh and new during that program. It was like he’d been reborn for a short time; the only thing grounding him in reality was the sharp throb in the mark on his ribs, hidden beneath his costume.

 

* * *

 

  

Press conferences were never fun, per say. But they could have been a lot worse. At least none of the reporters had any originality and ended up asking the same questions phrased differently over and over again. It was nice, because Victor never had to think up a particularly creative answer to any of their questions. A slight tweak would do, nobody the wiser.

  
“What do you have in mind for next season?” someone shouted. Victor made a show of looking thoughtful before giving a noncommittal answer, saying he’d have to talk to his coach, yada yada ya. The press had been asking him about retirement ever since he turned 24, and he’d answered exactly the same, without fail, year after year.

 

Flying back to Russia was a relief, if only because he could see Makkachin again. Declining to stay the weekend in Tokyo and explore (get drunk) with Chris was the best decision he’d made in a long time. He briefly wondered if this made him old and boring, but quickly discarded the idea when Makkachin immediately jumped on him when he walked through the front door of his apartment. At least someone was genuinely overjoyed to see him.

 

Victor didn’t let himself mope for too long. It was boring, and besides, what was the point of being gross and sad over someone who clearly didn’t care. He was back on the ice a day later, dutifully fulfilling his obligations to Yakov and, more importantly, his country.

 

It was a few weeks after Worlds when _it_ happened. The catalyst that divided his life firmly into the before and the after, if he was being cliché.

 

Sundays were his day off. His only day off, in fact. And as such they were something to be revered, not wasted. And lounging on the couch with Makkachin sprawled on top of him watching trashy reality TV was as good as it got. It was an almost sacred routine, and anyone who was close enough to have his personal number knew he disliked being disturbed on his day off, especially with trivial things like viral videos.

 

Victor hated when people sent him videos to watch. _LOL. WAIT TILL THE END. WATCH THIS I DIED_. It didn’t matter what text was attached to the videos, Victor rarely opened them, and usually just sent a noncommittal emoji back to the sender, never one to be rude.

 

But something important must have happened, he figured, as the fourth person in as many hours sent him a link to the same YouTube video. Finally cracking, Victor sat up slightly, dislodging Makkachin from his lap with a slight whine. She shifted and put her head back in his lap, eyes large and betrayed.

 

**[Katsuki Yuuri] Tried to Skate Victor’s FS Program [Stay Close to me]**

 

Victor blinked stupidly at the title of the video as it buffered. Katsuki Yuuri was _his_ Yuuri, the guy who seduced him before leaving the next day without even a goodbye. His stomach dropped. Was this some sort of joke? A cruel twisting of the knife already lodged in his heart? If Yuuri didn’t want to be his soulmate, fine. But did he have to drag it out like this?

 

With nothing to lose Victor pushed play, immediately sighing as Yuuri popped up on screen. He looked different. Pudgier, paler. And more tired. But then he started to skate.

 

It was perfect. It was everything Victor had wanted to put into his routine but had failed to capture. The emotions, the rawness, the love and longing, all perfectly captured in Yuuri’s expressions and body language.

 

As the video continued an idea started to form in Victor’s head. Could this be for him? Maybe Yuuri didn’t actually regret that night, and was just confused or shy after the banquet. After all, from Victor’s very reliable resources, all said that Katsuki Yuuri was a quiet, laid-back man who hated being the center of attention. Maybe he was embarrassed because of what he did while he was drunk, and thought Victor wouldn’t take him or their marks seriously.

 

Victor’s eyes widened and a smile slipped across his face as he hurriedly pressed the replay button. No wonder Yuuri hadn’t spoken to him that night, he was embarrassed! Even though they were soulmates Yuuri probably couldn’t believe what he’d done, and had retreated out of self-preservation. Yuuri wasn’t ashamed of Victor, he was ashamed of his own actions.

 

A vision of Yuuri from that night sprang into his mind, his large eyes looking up at him. _Be my coach, Victor!_

 

It was the only possible explanation. Victor grinned and dropped his phone, the video still playing, now on its fourth run through. He hugged it to his chest in glee, a poor substitute for Yuuri, but it would have to do for now. The way Yuuri skated his routine was amazing; his body created music, and even though he was overweight he almost floated across the ice and landed jumps with ease.  

 

A half-formed plan started to play across Victor’s mind before he leapt to his feet, Makkachin giving a protesting whine as she was dislodged from his lap. Victor ran to his bedroom, grabbed his largest suitcase, and started to neatly pile in clothes as quickly as he could. He abandoned packing after 2 minutes in order to search for plane tickets to Japan, fingers trembling in excitement. There was a flight out that night, tickets still available. He could be in Japan by morning.

 

Victor grimaced at the lack of first class seats available on such a short notice. Economy it would be, then. He tripped over Makkachin as he ran back to the living room, and realized he had almost forgotten her. Dropping to his knees he gave her a warm hug, aghast over his own short sightedness.

 

Forty-five minutes later he was ready. Suitcase, check. Makkachin, check. Carryon, check. If he forgot anything his house sitter could ship it to him, same as always whenever he left the country for a competition.

 

He still had about two hours before he had to leave for the airport, and he supposed he should call Yakov and tell him he would be sitting out for the season. Victor had been hinting for a while now that he was considering taking a break from skating, his way of easing Yakov into the idea of Victor retiring. After all, the old man had a new protégé in Yuri now, and a promising female skater in Mila. What did he need Victor for anymore?

 

“Yakov,” Victor after his coach picked up with a terse grunt. Sundays were his day off, too. “I’ve decided that I’m going to take this season off and work with Katsuki Yuuri. I need a break.”

 

There was a long pause. Victor was starting to wonder if Yakov had suffered another heart attack before the other roared, “WHAT?”

 

Victor sighed in relief that he hadn’t inadvertently killed his coach. Ex-coach? He’d figure the semantics out later. “Yeah, do you remember him from the Grand Prix Final banquet?” Victor sighed, flopping onto his bed with a goofy grin. “I saw that video of him performing my free skate. Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”

 

“Vitya,” Yakov spat out. “You can’t be serious. You’re going to take a break for that loser? Do you not remember his score from last year?”  


“He’s not a loser,” Victor frowned. “Did you not watch that video? He was _breathtaking_. He captured everything I wanted to put into that routine and more. I haven’t felt like that watching a performance in years.” He knew he was gushing, that Yuuri’s rendition of _Stay Close to Me_ wasn’t completely flawless like he claimed, but he didn’t care. Yuuri’s interpretation clearly wasn’t about the nit-picky technical aspects of skating; it was about feelings, emotions. _Passion_.

 

“Victor, be reasonable,” Yakov sighed, sounding tired. “You know you only have a few more seasons left. Leaving now would be catastrophic for your career, especially for a boy who came dead last in the Grand Prix final and then embarrassed himself at the banquet.”

 

A wave of anger washed over Victor. “Don’t talk about him like that,” he snapped.

 

“Why not? You don’t even know each other, and it’s not like he’s your soulmate. Right?” Silence grew between them, growing more and more awkward the longer it was stretched out.

 

“ _Right_?” Yakov repeated, sounding very agitated.

 

Victor took a deep breath and thought about what he wanted to say. How he could express all that was running through his mind without sounding crazy. “Listen, I know this seems impulsive, but this is something I need to do. I haven’t felt so alive, so excited, in a long, long time. I would be a fool not to chase this feeling.”

 

“When is he flying in?” Yakov finally asked.  “You want to skate with him, fine. I won’t be happy about it but I can accept that.”

 

“No, no, no,” Victor laughed. “He’s not coming here, I have a flight to Japan in . . . about 3 hours, actually. And I don’t just want to skate with him, I want to be his coach, too. I think with a proper coach who knows his strengths and weaknesses better he could actually win the Grand Prix Final.”

 

The silence went on for so long Victor was positive he’d actually killed Yakov this time for real until a torrent of swear words, ferocious and crude, exploded from the opposite line. Victor hung up in a hurry, unwilling to be cussed out for doing something selfish for once in his life and putting his wants and desires before others.

 

He hurriedly silenced his phone as Yakov tried to ring him again. It was a little early to head to the airport, but Victor was so antsy he couldn’t bear to stay still any longer. Juggling two large suitcases and a dog kennel, Victor clumsily made his way out of his building down to the street where a taxi was waiting. The driver was not excited about driving with a dog in his car, but Victor knew how to turn on the charm when it really mattered.

 

It was dark and snowing by the time he pulled up to the airport, its long corridors and twisting terminals as familiar to him as the back of his hand. He had just unloaded all his possessions from the taxi when he heard his name being called.

 

Of course it was Yakov. One didn’t become the most successful figure skating coach in Russian history by being spineless or giving up easily.

 

“Don’t go! Stay here.” He looked disheveled, as if he’d rushed to catch Victor before the plane left. A flood of affection washed over Victor for the red-faced old man in front of him who’d been a part of his life for a decade. Yakov was the closest thing to a father figure he had. Of course, he would chase Victor down at an airport like a bad romance movie, of course he used skating as a thin cover for not wanting Victor to get his heart broken.  

 

“Yakov, you were the best coach I ever had. You always will be.”

 

“If you walk away now, you can never come back.” Victor knew he was being dramatic because he was upset; the words had no real bite to them, no true malice. He leaned forward and hugged his mentor, kissing his cheek lightly.

 

“Dasvidania. I’m sorry I can’t do as you say this time.” He walked away before Yakov started yelling about how Victor never did as he said anyways, what was he taking about? He'd miss Yakov the most of anyone in Russia, and felt briefly nostalgic before remembering that phones and the internet existed. 

 

Victor finally relaxed when he was seated and the plane started to idle on the runway, getting ready for takeoff. It was a long flight from St. Petersburg to Tokyo, over 12 hours. He’d found out where Yuuri’s family Onsen was through a quick internet search, and was excited that it seemed to be in a quiet town, hopefully far away from any press or reporters.

 

His arrival was without pomp or circumstance, and after a long and confusing train ride filled with strange looks at Makkachin and poor attempts to communicate with locals using Google Translate he was thankful for the quaint atmosphere of the resort. It was snowing lightly as he wandered inside, reminding him of St. Petersburg.

 

He’d walked in and immediately noticed a pleasant smell; spicy, warm, and homey. Despite being exhausted and jetlagged, he put on a smile for the older man manning the front desk.

 

“Konnichiwa! Do you speak English?” Victor asked, praying for a miracle. Victor was fluent in two and a half languages: Russian, English, and he could get by in German, thanks to his mother’s half-assed attempts at passing her culture down to him. He’d learned English exclusively because it was the language his soulmark was written in.

 

“Yes, yes, a little! Welcome to Yu-topia, sir. How may I help you?”

 

“I’m sorry for not calling ahead, but do you have a room available for one?” The man typed something into a computer, humming quietly under his breath.

 

“Hmmm, we should have something available in the next few hours. Would you like to enjoy the hot springs while you wait? We can take care of your luggage in the meantime.”  


“That sounds perfect! And I’m sorry, but do you allow pets?” Victor asked as Makkchin let out a loud whine, tired of being crammed into a small kennel for so long.

 

The man looked surprised and peered over the edge of the counter, a smile lighting up his face. “Oh, that’s a poodle, isn’t it! It looks just like my son’s old dog. It won’t be a problem, sir, it’ll be nice to have a pet around again.”

 

Victor was relieved. He wasn’t exactly a planner, and had no idea what he would have done if Makkachin hadn’t been allowed in. After giving the man his name and credit card information, he was ushered out of the main lobby, down a hall, and into a large tiled room. His bags stayed by the front desk, being watched over carefully by the nice man. An employee explained that there were several hot springs at Yu-topia, and that he could use a traditional communal bath or have a smaller private one, whichever he was more comfortable with.

 

Having no problem being naked around others from his years changing in locker rooms, Victor was ushered into a spacious room with a large tub. He stripped quickly before dipping a toe into the water delicately. Due to the early hour, he was completely alone, and he sunk gratefully into the water, the heat a soothing balm to his muscles, sore from hours of being crammed into a tiny plane seat.

 

A few minutes could have passed or several hours, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he could never go back to normal showers after experiencing such a luxury. A loud commotion from the adjacent room startled him from his stupor. The door to his bath suddenly flew open, and Katsuki Yuuri slid in, dressed in a long coat, looking panicked.

 

They stared at each other for a long moment, both speechless. “Vic-Victor,” Yuuri stuttered out, gaping, face growing more and more red the longer he stared. His eyes traced down Victor’s chest, stopping at where his torso disappeared beneath the water before snapping his eyes upwards.

 

Immediately Victor stood, smiling brightly. There were so many things he wanted to say to Yuuri. About how his skating had made him feel for the first time in so long, how miserable he’d been in the months they’d spent apart, how happy he’d been that night at the banquet, about the realization that they were soulmates. But before his brain could formulate an appropriate response his mouth opened, words tumbling out.

 

“Yuuri! Starting today, I am your coach! I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final.” he threw in a wink for good measure, hand outstretched, wholly expecting Yuuri to take it. Maybe climb into the bath and continue where they’d left off all those months ago. What he wasn’t expecting was for Yuuri to squeak, stare at his crotch for half a second, and run out, just as quickly as he’d run in.

 

Victor was confused but not distraught. He sunk back into the warm water and sighed dreamily, not minding that Yuuri was clearly much more shy without a few drinks in him. He’d come around, and now that Victor had found him he wouldn’t let him go quite so easily again.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey, thanks for reading! If you're bored pop over to my tumblr that I don't really know how to work and say hi [here](http://im-so-effing-dead.tumblr.com/likesl)

Victor wasn’t sure if heaven existed. But he was sure that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been happier. Moving to a small town by the sea in a country where he didn’t speak the language wasn’t exactly what he’d written about in elementary school when he and his classmates shared their future goals and dreams with their classmates. He had, of course, told everyone that he wanted to be the best figure skater in the world, and nothing would or could stop him. But there he was, 20 some years later, living in an unused banquet hall, sharing a room with a dog, unable to say more than a few words at a time in Japanese. And he was ecstatic, absolutely stupid with contentment; the happiest he’d been since his first gold medal win of his senior division career.

 

Hasetsu was incredible. The Katsuki family was incredible. The hot springs were incredible. Everything was just _so damn incredible_.

 

And Yuuri. _God, Yuuri_. Victor still couldn’t look at him for too long; it was like staring at the sun. Victor knew he was being frightfully cheesy, and it was wholly unrealistic to believe that this honeymoon period full of overflowing mushy feelings would last forever. But damn if he wouldn’t enjoy it while it lasted.

 

Everything was so quaint in Hasetsu. The town was quiet, the locals were kind, and fisherman dotted the bridge he biked over every morning, Yuuri panting heavily behind him as he ran as fast as he could towards Ice Castle Hasetsu.

 

“Keep up, Yuuri!” Victor would shout in encouragement, giggling as Makkachin playfully nipped at his heels. It was mean, cheerfully riding a bicycle through town as his beloved wheezed and panted behind him, unable to muster enough air to say hello to his neighbors. But Yuuri had let himself go; his weight was unacceptable for a champion figure skater, and cardio was the fastest way to get him back into shape for competition.

 

“Ohayo gozaimasu,” Victor called to an employee working outside once he reached the rink, ringing his bike bell a few times. He hopped off and turned around to wait for Yuuri, smiling as he came into view, wheezing, but not nearly as heavily as he had been even a week prior when Victor had first arrived.  

 

Victor smiled, thinking of their first meeting in the bath. After Yuuri’s untimely arrival and departure Victor had been bundled into a robe, shown to a room, and promptly “fell asleep” clutching Makkachin. “Falling asleep” was a wonderful way to eavesdrop on people, and he had no shame that he’d used such an underhanded tactic to find out what his soulmate really thought about Victor flying across a continent to be with him. After listening for a sufficient amount of time and being content with what he overheard, he “awoke” to Yuuri’s awestruck face. Yuuri’s awestruck face was really quite unfair. But instead of immediately clutching his hand and professing his love, or demanding answers as to why Yuuri had rudely left him that night after the banquet, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Which was food.

 

Katsudon was nearly life changing; it was no wonder Yuuri gained weight easily if his mother was _that_ good at cooking. Victor had to refrain himself from having seconds, keeping in mind his exercise routine wouldn’t be nearly as rigorous as usual this season. He felt a little bad about denying Yuuri something that obviously made him happy, but he couldn’t be rewarded for not winning competitions. _Coach first, soulmate second_ , became his mantra when he felt himself wavering because of Yuuri’s big, puppy dog eyes.

 

Yuuri had been unsurprisingly shy about Victor’s advances; slamming his bedroom door closed before Victor could join him at bedtime, declining his numerous offers to bathe together, averting his eyes every time Victor stripped off. Victor didn’t mind, and even found it charming. His Yuuri was so cute, and wasn’t exactly making wooing him easy. But if Victor loved anything, it was a challenge.

 

Even sweaty and red-faced, gasping out a greeting to Yuuko, Victor found Yuuri infuriatingly adorable. Yuuri wasn’t allowed onto the ice yet, but he was getting closer to his pre-Grand Prix Final weight, and Victor felt a rush of pride that he’d been able to accomplish so much in such a short amount of time. He handed Yuuri water and patted him on the back, letting his hand linger slightly. Yuuri didn’t flinch away like he had the previous times. Progress.

 

He introduced himself to Yuuko and her family. He was immediately taken with the triplets, and gave each of them a hug as soon as they got over their momentary star-struck shyness. Making Ice Castle Hasetsu their home skating rink would be an excellent choice, and Victor was incredibly glad Yuuri had such a strong support system, like the Nishigori family.

 

They developed a routine after that. Victor would wake Yuuri up by (lovingly) pounding on his (locked) door at 7 AM every day without fail. Yuuri would go on a morning run, get back, and eat a meager breakfast filled with protein and vitamins that tasted only slightly better than cardboard. After breakfast, they would make their way to the Ice Castle where Victor would demonstrate choreography and more advanced moves as Yuuri observed from the stands. Yuuri especially loved his quad flip, and asked him to repeat it as many times as he was able. They would go back to the inn for lunch before spending the afternoon with Minako at her studio, or working on conditioning by themselves.

 

It was during one such afternoon that Victor decided he had waited long enough for Yuuri to come to him. If he wanted information he was going to have to dig for it. He suspected that Yuuri had figured out his little trick of falling asleep in random locations seemingly in an instant when it seemed like Yuuri might start randomly talking about himself. It was fine; Victor had no problem being bold. 

 

“Do you have feelings for Minako?” Victor wished he could have predicted how Yuuri would react; he would have waited to pose his question until Yuuri wasn’t in the middle of jumping on a stone bench. He immediately lost his balance and fell over, yelling a garbled, “NO!” when he righted himself. Victor laughed at the disgust on his face, glad to have broken the ice.

 

“Do you have a lover?” he asked playfully, mentally tracing the words on Yuuri’s ankle, already knowing the answer and enjoying Yuuri’s choked sounds. Victor started to tell Yuuri about his first girlfriend, but was immediately shut down. A flash of jealously glinted in Yuuri’s eye for a moment before he relaxed again, playing it off with an angelic smile.   


Victor changed the topic quickly, not wanting to make Yuuri even more uncomfortable right when they were finally opening up to each other. He asked about the big castle that always seemed to loom over town, no matter where he went. Yuuri told him in a scheming tone that it wasn’t actually a castle at all, but a ninja house. Victor lit up, his mouth widening. “Ninjas?” he asked, grabbing Yuuri’s arm in excitement.

 

Yuuri grinned at him widely before swinging his legs off the bench. “Follow me,” he said before taking off at a brisk jog, whistling for Makkachin. Victor was bemused, but ran after Yuuri anyways, loyal as the dog at his heels.

 

“Wow!” Victor gasped when the uphill trail Yuuri was sprinting up widened into a stone pavilion, the ninja house right in front of them. “This is amazing!” he said, eyes wide.

 

“You must really like ninjas,” Yuuri teased softly, remarkably not winded by the long, uphill run. The heavy cardio training was finally paying off. Victor assumed Yuuri was almost back to his pre-GPF weight, if he wasn’t there already. They’d get to start training on the ice soon.

 

“Yuuri, will you take a picture of Makkachin and I?” Victor tossed his phone to Yuuri before scooping Makkichin up and throwing out a peace sign.

 

“How do these look?” Yuuri asked after several audible shutters of Victor’s phone. Victor rushed over, pressing himself against Yuuri’s back and peering over his shoulder.

 

“That one looks good,” he murmured. Yuuri started to tremble slightly, and Victor took pity on him, grabbing his phone and putting enough distance between them that they could breathe properly, unaffected by the other’s presence. “What do you think?”

  
“It’s cute,” Yuuri said, nodding in approval. Victor beamed before quickly uploading it, tagging his location and searching for Yuuri’s Instagram handle. His brows furrowed in confusion when he couldn’t find it.

 

“Yuuri,” he called, horror slowly dawning on him. “I don’t think I follow you on Instagram.”

 

“Hmm?” Yuuri hummed, distractedly chasing Makkachin around a patch of flowers. “Oh, you definitely don’t.” Victor stared at him in mute horror.

 

“Do you follow me?” he asked. At Yuuri’s nod and bemused expression Victor let out what could only be called a wail, drawing the attention of the other tourists. “I’m the worst,” he said, hand covering his mouth. “The worst friend, the worst coach, the worst sou – ”

 

“No you’re not!” Yuuri looked shocked that Victor would dare call himself the worst at anything. “It isn’t a big deal. You can just follow me now.” Victor wasn’t mollified, and had a nice, slightly blind old woman take a picture of the two of them before he uploaded that as well, not caring that he double posted. It was the only apology he could think of that would right this grievous wrong.

 

He allowed Yuuri to walk instead of jog back to the inn as well, another little apology. Yuuri could scarcely believe he was this torn up about not being mutuals on Instagram, and teased him mercilessly the whole way home. Victor tried to be a good sport, but was still dismayed at his thoughtlessness, and vowed no less than six times to make it up to Yuuri.  

 

The next day started sleepily; since Yuuri’s last weigh in proved without a doubt that he was back down to a competitive range, Victor decided that, just this once, he could sleep in until breakfast and skip his morning run. That meant that Victor was allowing himself a lay in as well, and enjoyed the extra hour of sleep almost as much as he enjoyed the sight of a rumpled Yuuri shuffling around the kitchen sleepily, asking him blurrily if he wanted coffee or juice.

 

Their domesticity was shattered by Mari barging in, cheeks flushed and eyes narrowing on Victor the minute she spotted him. “The press is here for you,” she said accusingly. “Photographers and paparazzi are right outside. It’s disrupting our guests.”

 

“How did they find me?” he mussed, running a hand through his messy hair, yawning widely. “I thought I was being careful.” He didn’t much care that there were reporters looking for him; he’d been dealing with the press since he was 15, and it didn’t faze him anymore. What he did care about was the Katsuki’s lives being disrupted needlessly because of him.

 

“Your Instagram yesterday!” Yuuri exclaimed through a mouth full of Cheerios. “You tagged your location.”

 

Victor cursed in Russian before turning to Mari and grasping her hands. “I’ll fix this,” he promised before grabbing the Cheerios from Yuuri and shoving them back into the cabinet. Processed cereals were a no during the season. Ignoring Yuuri’s pout, he bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs, fancying himself a knight in shining armor, racing to the rescue of his beloved. He threw clothes on quickly but not carelessly; there would be cameras, after all. He had an image to maintain. By the time he was ready and bounding down the stairs Yuuri was just finishing up breakfast, still sulky that his Cheerios had been confiscated.

 

“Yuuri, I want you to meet me at the rink in an hour. Run fast, you skipped cardio today!” he ignored Yuuri’s muttered _Only because you told me too!_ and went out the back door, grabbing the bike he’d found in the storage shed and claimed as his own. He made sure the press surrounding the front of the Onsen caught a glimpse of him before speeding off, hoping to draw them away from the inn.  

 

Victor breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the ice arena. It looked quiet, and there was no crowd surrounding the entrance. He hopped off his bike and made his way to the doors. Of course, the minute he pulled it open he was greeted by a series of camera flashes. A small crowd had gathered inside the doors. Reporters turned when the door opened, and were on him in an instance. He took one glance at a frazzled Yuuko and Nishigori before deciding that he wouldn’t allow his friends to be negatively impacted by the media that was really only here because of him.

 

“Victor, is it true you’re retiring?”

 

“Victor, is this a vacation or a relocation?”

  
  
“Have you decided to move to Japan permanently, Mr. Nikiforov?”

 

“Did Katsuki Yuuri have an impact on your decision to leave Russia?”

 

“What is your relationship with Katsuki Yuuri, Victor?”

 

Victor put on his most dazzling smile, subtly nodding to a panicked Yuuko behind the desk. “I’d be happy to answer questions outside the Ice Castle. Being inside private property without intent to purchase a service is considered trespassing, after all.” At least, he hoped it was. He wasn’t quite sure about the laws regarding private property in Japan, but it did the trick. Victor smiled sunnily as the men and women clutching cameras hastened to comply with his thinly veiled threat, filing out after him like sheep.

 

Once Victor had everyone safely outside the rink, he started to speak, a hush falling over the crowd. “At this time I am not making any official statements about my career or my personal life. The rink is currently closed for a private practice session, so everyone will need to stay off the property.” Victor could hear the swell of angry voices and more shouted questions, but luckily nobody followed him as he strode back inside.

 

Seeing Axel, Loop, and Lutz skid towards him, he immediately knelt down to get on their level. The first time they met Victor they had been so shy, clutching their mothers hand and hiding behind their father’s leg, staring up at him with big, innocent eyes. This had all been an act, of course; 10 minutes after their introduction they had crept right out of their shell, hanging onto Victor’s every word and demanding that he pull them around the ice. He’d happily obliged, pulling two of them around by their little gloved hands while Yuuri skated behind him, lesisurley spinning Lutz around.

 

Yuuri’s carefree laugh and gentle smile when he’d been patiently pulled Lutz across the ice sprang to Victor’s mind as he slowly laced up his skates and started to warm up, making gentle circles around the ice before moving to the center. He had no plan for his personal practice for once, and was merely letting his body move whichever way it pleased. He unconsciously started to practice a short program, only half formed, his mind filling in the gaps he hadn’t yet choreographed.

 

He’d started mapping out two different programs several days after the last Grand Pre-Final. Depressed and feeling abandoned, Victor had retreated into himself, dealing with his pain by creating two different programs, both inspired by Yuuri. One based on the love he already felt for him and one based on the love he wished to discover: Eros and Agape.

 

“You look like you’re doing great, Victor!”

 

Victor knew that at some point Yuuri had entered the arena and was watching him. He had almost a sixth sense when it came to knowing where his soulmate was at all times. But the voice that spat his name out was not his Yuuri. He opened his eyes and turned, face lighting up when he got a good look at his beloved and whoever he had brought with him.

 

“Yuri!”

 

* * *

 

 

Victor wasn’t sure if heaven existed. But what he was sure of was that relaxing in his cozy room at the inn with Yuuri next to him after soaking in the hot spring after a hard workout came pretty damn close. In those quiet moments, he learned more about his Yuuri than any other time; he was much less guarded after a long soak and breathing in the warm steam of the Onsen. Yuuri’s family was always a safe topic, as were his friends. Pets were a sore spot, though Victor did not know why, and any talk of past romantic relationships made Yuuri go red so fast he almost looked like a cartoon character.

 

Of course, Yuri would barge in and disrupt their tentative routine in a bold, brash way only he could pull off without being immediately punched in the face. 

 

“Where’s my room?”

 

“This is _fine_!”

 

“Give me food.”

 

Demand after demand, and Victor could only smile indulgently. He was only a child, after all. His selfish demands and insistence that Victor drop whatever it is he’d been doing to fly back to Russia weren’t made out of malice, but out of not knowing that people were capable of saying no to him. And while Victor had no intention of following him back to St. Petersburg, it was amusing to say nothing and toss whimsical smiles about. Like dangling a string in front of a cute, murderous kitten.

 

His home was wherever Yuuri was. It had taken him months to figure out, but now that he found Yuuri again he wasn’t letting him go. He laughed at something Yurio growled out, righteous and unamused that Victor would dare smile at him, because that meant he wasn’t being taken seriously.

 

It was several minutes later that Victor realized something important. Yuuri was gone. Had left the house, apparently, Mari explained when he skidded into the room she was cleaning. She told him to check at Minako’s.

 

Of course, he ran out without a second thought, pulling on a coat hastily and knotting a scarf around his neck. This was the first time Yuuri had just up and left without telling him where he was going. It was a common occurrence, too, Minako assured him when he reached the bar she worked at. But Victor couldn’t shake the strange feeling of foreboding that had washed over him when Yuuri left without a word. Maybe it was intuition, he thought as he absently rubbed his mark, registering belatedly that Minako’s eyes were tracing his hand movement.

 

“You have a soulmate?” she asked abruptly, still eying his hand.

 

“Yes!” Victor immediately lit up, a stupidly dreamy smile drifting across his face. “And he’s absolutely perfect in every way. Totally stunning, and he’s so kind to everyone. I didn’t know what love was until I met him. We were made for each other, but I still don’t think I deserve him.”

 

Minako visibly softened, eyes going warm. “It must be hard to be so far away from them while you’re here,” she said, wiping down the bar.

 

Victor flinched, palm slipping off his cheek. Had Yuuri not told her? He knew Yuuri and Minako were very close, and if Yuuri hadn’t told her, then who had he told? Maybe it was a cultural difference, and soulmates were just incredibly private affairs in Japan.

 

“Ah yes, it’s been . . . difficult,” Victor said, frowning. If Yuuri hadn’t confided in Minako yet Victor wasn’t about to spill the beans, either.

 

He pushed the thought out of his mind as he made his way to the Ice Castle, thankfully free of journalists at this hour. Minako told him that if Yuuri wasn’t at her studio, he’d be there. Yuuko and Nishigori were in the staff room, watching Yuuri as he glided on the ice, eyes closed. They turned to Victor when he pushed the door open.

 

“We knew you’d show up sooner or later,” Yuuko said happily, gesturing to Yuuri. Victor went up to the window that separated the office from the ice, putting a finger to his lips.

 

“He comes here often,” Yuuko explained. “It helps him with his anxiety.” Victor knew Yuuri got extremely anxious before competitions, he had told him that himself. He didn’t know it was so debilitating, though. Yuuko kept speaking, her words filtering in and out of Victor’s mind as he thought about how he could use this to his advantage.

 

“He’s not good at making friends.” _Ouch_.   


“Not good at putting himself out there.” _Really?_

 

“He actually hates losing.” _That._ That Victor could work with. The first sign of a champion was the unwillingness to stay down on the ground after a loss, the ability to remember how he felt when he lost, and to work hard enough so that he never felt that way again.

  
“So, a magical spell to change the little piggy into a prince,” Victor said to himself. “Thanks,” he said over his shoulder to Yuuko and Nishigori, allowing himself to gaze at Yuuri for a moment longer as he opened the door. “I think I understand a lot more about Yuuri now.” 

 

* * *

 

“Ohayo gozaimasu,” Victor said to the usual fisherman, ringing his bike bell as he glided past. “Say good morning, Yurio!”

 

“Don’t call me that!” Yuri barked, running fast enough to keep up with Victor. Yuuri was a few paces behind but was by no means left in the dust. Victor noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes, and chose not to comment on them. He didn’t want to know how late Yuuri had been out, and as a result hadn’t asked.

 

Victor could feel the tension between the two Yuuri’s, thick and simmering just below the surface. Victor was glad; if both of them wanted him to be their coach, they would have to try their hardest to impress him, which in turn would push them to exceed their abilities. Excellent.

 

Yurio wanted to skate to Eros. Victor tried his hardest not to let out a snort that 15-year-old-pure-as-the-untouched-snow-Yurio wanted to skate a program about sexual love. There was no way in hell that Victor would let him skate to Eros when Yuuri was standing right next to him. Yuuri, who simply oozed sensuality in his every move, even as he sneezed and moved to wipe his nose discreetly. It was mesmerizing.

 

Victor pulled his mind out of the gutter long enough to say, “You have to do the opposite of what people expect.” And Yuuri, sexy, sensual Yuuri, looked at him, distraught. Victor briefly wondered if he had momentarily forgotten the night they met, how sexy and confident he had been on the dancefloor. The way their hips had slotted together perfectly, how Yuuri had worked that fucking pole like he’d been born to dance on it.

 

Clearing his throat loudly to hopefully distract from the sudden tightness in his pants, Victor let out a deep breath. Just to heighten the stakes and create tension, of course. Yuri, looking bored and boastful, Yuuri, looking determined and thoughtful. Their expressions quickly fell into naked shock and anger when he cheerfully announced that Yuri would skate to Agape, and Yuuri would skate to Eros. Their protests were loud and ferocious.

 

“If you aren’t up to my standards by next week, I won’t choreograph either of your programs.”

 

Their protests cut off abruptly, neither saying anything as Victor’s declaration sunk in. Victor immediately felt terrible at the sheer, unadulterated panic that swept over Yuuri’s face. He wanted to go to Yuuri immediately and comfort him, tell him that there was no way he would actually leave him. But, as he glanced at Yurio, looking slightly amused and determined, Victor knew that the only way either one of them would grow as skaters was if they had competition, a rival to push them to their limits.

 

It did take Victor by surprise when Yurio immediately challenged Victor, and said that if he won, Victor would have to come back to Russia with him and be his coach. Victor liked the sound of that; if there was actually something to lose or gain on the line, Yuuri would be forced to give it his all, to push himself beyond his current abilities. 

 

“Yuuri, what about you?” Victor asked, smirking at Yurio just to rile him up even further. “What do you want if you win?”

 

Yuuri paused for a moment, before an unreadable look stole across his face, lips tight and eyes warm. “I want to eat katsudon with you, Victor.”

 

Victor felt his heart balloon, growing two sizes too big. Now this, _this_ , he could work with.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Hope you guys enjoy :D

“Vkusno!” Victor cheered into his bowl, eyes closing in pleasure as he slurped up the salty, chicken flavored noodles. The ramen restaurant Yuuri offhandedly mentioned as his favorite was absolutely sublime. He’d been in Japan for nearly a month now, and it was high time he tried out an authentic noodle place.

 

His Japanese was very poor; slightly better than nonexistent, but not quite on the level of comprehensible. Sure, he could clumsily order things from restaurants and gracelessly stutter basic greetings, but holding a conversation was beyond him at this point. Considering he’d only been learning the language since December, Victor was rather proud of his meager abilities. And besides, occasionally he stumbled across someone who spoke English, like the middle-aged business man occupying the seat across from him.

 

The business man introduced himself, asked where Victor was from, and what brought him to a small Japanese town if he didn’t speak the language. Victor immediately forgot his new friend’s name in favor of gushing about Yuuri, about telling this stranger how Yuuri could have lived in Antarctica in an igloo with a penguin for a roommate and Victor still would have moved in happily.

 

“Your soulmate must be something else,” the man said as he loosened his tie. “To get you to move here all the way from Russia.”

 

“He sure is,” Victor sighed happily, chasing the last noodle around his bowl with his chopsticks. _Ivan_ , Victor decided. His new friend would therefore be known as Ivan, because Victor was truly terrible with pronunciation and didn’t want to embarrass himself by admitting to Ivan that he completely forgot his name when he had introduced himself less than 2 minutes ago.

 

“Never met mine,” Ivan continued, picking at the vegetables swimming at the bottom of his bowl. “My soulmate, that is. Married a girl I met in college who didn’t have a mark, and we have a couple of kids. I love my family more than anything, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder, you know?”

 

Victor nodded vigorously in agreement. “Love is always beautiful, no matter how you find it,” he said, finally grabbing the last stubborn noodle and slurping it up in victory. Ivan sat with him for a while more, falling into easy conversation. He worked a 9-5 desk job at an international tech company and occasionally travelled to America, which was why he spoke English so well. Victor told him that he was a figure skater sitting a season out while trying his hand out at coaching.

 

“Hey, Victor, if you’re interested, some friends and I are meeting up in a bit for drinks, if you want to come. They’re all very laid back, and won’t mind an extra person. It might be a good way to meet some new people in town.”

 

Victor considered the offer. The Hot Springs on Ice competition was just around the corner, and Yurio and Yuuri had the basics of their programs down and were working towards perfecting the little details. Both had made wonderful progress in an incredibly short amount of time. They could definitely manage without him for a couple hours in the morning, and might even be able to teach each other something while they were at it.

 

“Sure, I’d love to!” They paid for their meal and left in good spirits. Victor was surprised that he and Ivan were getting along so well considering their relatively large age gap and lack of having anything in common with one another. Nevertheless, Victor was pleased that he had managed to make a real life Japanese friend on his own. He really should text Yakov about it, just to rub his success in the other man’s face.

 

The bar was only a short walk away, and was lit by dozens of little candles; it was quite cozy. Victor wondered if Yuuri had ever been. Ivan’s friends were already seated in a booth, and they greeted him warmly in Japanese that Victor didn’t understand. After a quick introduction Victor slid in and made himself at home.

 

There were 7 of them packed in the booth, and 3 others besides Ivan spoke at least some English. Victor didn’t mind the language barrier; they were all friendly enough, and very curious about him. They asked dozens of questions that Ivan helpfully translated, and as the night wore on and their empty glasses multiplied, verbal communication seemed less and less important compared to wild hand gestures and interpretive facial expressions.

 

“ _M_ y Yuuri,” Victor hiccupped sometime after midnight to a girl he dubbed Anastasia, “Not the other Yuri. That Yuri is little and mean and if you try to cuddle him he bites your ears. No, _my_ Yuuri is so precious and squishy and cute. I love him with all my heart, you know?” Anastasia did not know, as he was speaking is slurred Russian. She said something to him in Japanese before gently taking the wine bottle out of his clenched fist.

 

“I’m not sure why I’m here,” Victor confessed to her in gentle Russian. “I should be at home with Yuuri, but Ivan was just so nice! And so are you, Anastasia. I hope that we stay friends for a long time!” Someone at the table started another round, which Victor cheerfully joined in on, his brief melancholy miraculously forgotten in light of more alcohol.

 

Victor wasn’t sure how he managed to get back to Yutopia that night. A lot of willpower despite his shaky coordination, he assumed. And Uber. Thank god for Uber. He was even more surprised when he managed to wander into his own room and not some other unfortunate guest’s. That would have been interesting to try and explain to his future mother and father in law.

 

Despite his earlier declaration that Yurio and Yuuri would be fine practicing on their own, he never intended to actually sleep in and leave them to their own devices. They could warm up independently just fine, but would bite each other’s heads off if left unsupervised for too long. So when Victor blearily opened one eye the next morning and saw that it was just past 11:30, he panicked.

 

He flew out of bed, disrupting Makkachin who let out a loud whine before rolling over and falling back asleep. Victor pulled on the first pieces of clothing he saw, not bothering to make sure they matched. _No time for a shower_ , he thought groggily as he gracefully tripped over a chair while trying to pull his socks on and brush his teeth simultaneously.

 

Victor spit in the sink, rinsed his mouth, and ran down the stairs. He really, really wanted a shower. _Needed_ a shower. But there was no time. Yuuri’s mother was in the kitchen, and looked up with a surprised smile when he breezed in. “Oh, Vicchan! I thought you and Yuuri had already left.”

 

Accepting a piece of toast, Victor toed his shoes on hurriedly. “Yes, he has, but I’m very, very late.” Thankfully she let him go with minimal fussing, only pressing a thermos of hot liquid into his hands. How did she have coffee ready? Was it a Japanese habit to always have a thermos on hand, just in case some late idiot needed a quick pick me up? Victor didn’t have the time to think too deeply about it.

 

Usually Victor enjoyed taking his time and leisurely biking to the ice castle, if not for himself than to make sure Yuuri didn’t explode from trying to keep up with too fast of a pace. That was not the case today. He managed to made it to the rink in five minutes, a personal best, and had to pause outside to catch his breath, panting wildly. Maybe he should join in on some of his students’ workout regiments if he was that winded from a barely 2-mile bike ride.

 

“Sorry I’m late!” Victor opened the door with a bang, hiding just how flustered he was under a neutral smile. Yurio and Yuuri immediately stopped their conversation and darted to opposite sides of the rink, looking incredibly guilty. Victor didn’t scold them for their obvious and pitiful attempts to cover up what was obvious practice of quads; he owed them for arriving late and hungover.

 

* * *

 

 

Victor adored the complementary pajamas the inn handed out to their guests. He supposed he wasn’t technically a guest, per se, since he’d basically announced his intention to move in the first day he arrived, but he’d keep that tidbit quiet if it meant holding onto the silky soft green robe. It was loose and fluttery and really brought out the hints of green in his eyes, if he did say so himself. And besides, when he was wearing the pajamas he didn’t have to bother with underwear. Life was too short to put on boxers when they weren’t necessary.  


He was also much more agreeable when he was wearing the robe. It made him feel safe, loved, and cared for. Like Yuuri was giving him a hug. So, when Yurio callously asked what they would be doing for costumes for their “show down,” Victor didn’t get irked like he might have in the past at Yurio's tone; instead he cheerfully informed both Yurio and Yuuri that he’d had all the costumes he’d ever worn in competition shipped from Russia for them to pick through.

 

He paid a pretty penny for express shipping across a continent, but it was worth it to see Yuuri absolutely smitten by all the choices. The way Yuuri’s fingers lightly brushed over all the satin, sequins, and sparkles as if they would turn to dust if he pressed too hard made Victor smile.

 

Later, when Yuuri showed his mother the uniform he had chosen, she clapped so enthusiastically Victor felt competed to put a concerned hand on her shoulder, to make sure she wouldn’t tip over.

 

Victor adored Yuuri’s mother. Other than Yuuri, she was the only one of the family who could speak English fluently. She would tell Victor stories of studying abroad in Ireland while in University, and how she was in charge of dealing with the international guests at the onsen. Victor never really had a mother figure in his life, unless one counted the aunt who financed his figure skating endeavors until he was successful enough to pay for them himself when he turned 16. It was nice, being fussed over and cooked for and hugged whenever he felt even a little sad. God, she gave the best hugs, warm and squishy.

 

“Oh, Vicchan, this is so wonderful,” she gushed to him when Yuuri left to carefully store the costume in his closet for the next day’s competition.  “I really don’t know how to thank you; you’ve done so much for us.”

 

“What?” Victor asked. He was confused. He’d done absolutely nothing; if anything, they were the ones who opened up their home, gave him a soulmate, and made sure he had a clean set of green pajamas everyday, even if he wasn’t really a guest anymore.

 

“Figure skating is a very expensive sport, and Hasetsu isn’t the tourist attraction like it used to be,” Yuuri’s mother confessed to him as she wandered over to the sink and started to wash the dishes. “Coaching fees, club fees, rink fees. Fees, fees, fees! It’s just ridiculous.” Victor hummed in agreement. If anyone knew firsthand how expensive the sport could be, it was him.

 

“Yuuri attending college in America has been a bit of a strain, too.  All the attention that you’ve brought to town and the inn has been so wonderful for business, we’re very grateful for the extra customers! And now Yuuri doesn’t even have to pay for his costume, which is just so generous! Thank you, Victor.”

 

Victor slowly walked over to the sink and started to dry while she rinsed. He was humbled by the Katsuki’s generosity and modesty. They were some of the best people he’d ever met, it was absurd that they would think they owned him thanks; if anything, it was the other way around.

 

“Katsuki-san, I should be the one thanking you, if nothing else. You’re the one who supported in his career Yuuri and made it possible for us to have met before. That’s the only reason that I’m even here.”

 

“You and Yuuri have met before?” she asked, momentarily pausing to dip her hands in the sudsy water.

 

“Oh yes, at the banquet of last year’s Grand Pre-Final. It was quite the memorable introduction,” Victor sighed, knowing that he sounded like a love-struck fool. “He’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” Yuuri’s mother looked at him curiously for a moment, her eyebrows drawing together to form a line, much like Yuuri’s did when he was confused.

 

“Vicchan, I’m sorry if this is rather forward, but I was just wondering if you and Yuuri are, possibly, by chance – ”

 

“Soulmates?” Victor finished for her with a grin. “Well, if Yuuri hasn’t told you anything I don’t believe it’s my place. But would you like to see my mark?” he asked with a wink. Katsuki-san nodded frantically, eyes shining.

 

Victor dramatically slipped his arms out of his rope, making sure to keep the rest of himself covered. He really wasn’t in the mood to flash Yuuri’s mother. He almost did unintentionally when she gasped shrilly and yanked his arm above his head, bending down to peer at the side of his ribcage. _Victor, after this season ends, my family runs a hot spring resort, so please come._

“Oh my goodness.” Victor didn’t have time to formulate a response before she threw he arms around his neck. “This is wonderful news; I can’t believe he didn’t tell me! I’m his mother, for crying out loud.”

 

“You know Yuuri,” Victor said, struggling to slip back into his robe as it slid dangerously low. “He can be shy about the strangest things.”

 

“You can say that again.” Victor was released suddenly, and he managed to cover himself fully before he was pushed into a chair, a large leather-bound book slamming into the table inches from his fingertips. Victor flinched and yelped, whipping his hands underneath the table on reflex.

 

“This is our family photo album,” Yuuri’s mother said, flipping through the first few pages rapidly. “No one ever wants to look at the pictures with me, but I figured you might like to see what Yuuri looked like as a baby.” Victor was bent over the glossy pages before she could finish speaking, eyes greedily scanning each picture.

 

“He’s so cute!” Victor gasped several minutes later, hand clutching his heart as yet another picture of toddler Yuuri was flipped to. “Look at those cheeks,” he wailed, clapping his hands over his mouth, eyes wide in disbelief. “How are they so chubby?” Victor was having the time of his life. He was eating cake with his soulmate’s mother, looking at adorable pictures of Yuuri, all while being told how wonderful of a soulmate he must be.

 

“Victor, can you can keep a secret?” Victor nodded, somehow managing to tear his eyes away from a five-year-old Yuuri posing by the boards of an ice rink. “Yuuri has been a big fan of yours for years now.” Victor was slightly confused. He already knew that he was the reason that Yuuri became interested in figure skating professionally.

 

“Oh, if Yuuri knew I was telling you this, he’d be mortified,” she cackled. “He has dozens of posters of you hanging in his room. It was so precious, he used to cut pictures of you out of magazines while he was saving up for the big posters, he was such a fan. He even named our family dog after you.”

 

“ _MOM!_ ” Victor turned, seeing a very red and very nauseated looking Yuuri framed in the doorway. “Why on earth would you tell him that?” Victor suddenly felt bad, seeing the look of naked humiliation pass over Yuuri’s face. “Are those _pictures_?” He stormed over, taking one look at the photo album before slamming it shut, picking it up, and running back up the stairs.

 

“Yuuri!” Victor ran after him, robe billowing behind him. “Come back!” he cried dramatically, thundering up the stairs behind Yuuri.  “I’m sorry! You were just so cute as a kid, I couldn’t resist.” Yuuri let out an embarrassed grunt, which turned into a real grunt when he tripped on the last step and face planted. Victor managed to avoid a collision by awkwardly side stepping Yuuri’s splayed legs and running into the opposite wall instead. He fell on Yuuri anyways, dazed and clutching his head.

 

“Sorry,” Victor said as he rolled over, managing to untangle their various limbs and get a hand on the photo album. Yuuri started to shake, head buried in the fluffy rug at the top of the staircase. Just as Victor started to panic thinking that he made his soulmate cry, Yuuri threw his head back and laughed.  


Victor collected himself for a minute, thanking every deity that he could think of, because Yuuri Katsuki was in front of him, eyes closed in mirth, giggling softly. His laughter was contagious, and Victor found himself cracking up as well, collapsed in a tangled heap outside his bedroom. He could almost feel the tension leaving Yuuri, all his fear and anxiety about the competition between him and Yurio melting away.

 

“Look at you,” Victor jabbed the picture the book had opened to in their struggle. “You were so cute.”

 

“I can’t believe she showed you the pictures,” Yuuri mumbled in disbelief. “And told you about the posters. Oh my god. I have to move to Iceland and change my name. That’s the only way I can get past this.”

 

“You will do no such thing,” Victor said, flipping happily through the glossy pages. “I’m embarrassed that you own posters of me but I don’t own any of you. This is like Instagram all over again.”

 

Yuuri scoffed and picked himself off the floor. “I’m going to bed early,” he said, reaching down to pull Victor up. “I need to be rested for tomorrow’s competition.” Victor allowed Yuuri to help him to his feet, and bent over to grab the photo album.

 

“Of course,” he said smoothly, stepping backwards. “That’s an excellent idea. Let me give this back to your mother and I’ll be right back. I always sleep better on the right side; I hope you don’t mind.” Victor grinned as he left Yuuri gaping at the top of the stairs. Victor knew that when he got back Yuuri would be gone, his bedroom door firmly locked. It was fun to tease Yuuri, and Victor’s more outrageous requests seemed to distract him, hopefully taking his mind off the competition tomorrow and easing his anxiety somewhat.

 

And besides, Victor mussed as he aimlessly started scrolling through his phone, if Yuuri wasn’t with him tonight he couldn’t possibly object to the four posters of himself that Victor ordered.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so idk what happened but I got tired of that slow burn so here we are. Enjoy!

_“Yuuri, dance more like you’re trying to seduce me.”_

It became a mantra, in those months spent practicing and perfecting _Eros_ until Yuuri’s feet bled and his sweat was indistinguishable from tears. The months blended together after the Hot Springs on Ice competition. Once Victor sat down and talked to Yuuri about what was keeping him from performing to his full potential, about his anxieties and insecurities, Yuuri opened up both personally and professionally. The growth in Yuuri’s skating and Victor’s improvement as a coach were palpable.

 

Victor encouraged Yuuri to take more risks on his own; picking his own music for his free skate and being more decisive was a step in the right direction. Yuuri in turn became more honest, not holding back his criticisms of Victor’s methods and communicating when something wasn’t working rather than keeping it bottled up.

 

Summer passed in a haze of warmth interrupted by flashes of icy cold. Yuuri’s performance grew from decent to genuinely great. Victor knew that Yuuri would have no trouble at the rapidly approaching Japanese nationals; he wanted the competition to be a chance for Yuuri’s confidence to be bolstered. Victor knew that Yuuri wouldn’t just win; he would destroy the competition, and hopefully be able to ride the high of gold all the way through the qualifying rounds of the Grand Prix circuit.

 

Nationals came quickly. It was September before Victor knew it, over four months since he’d arrived in Hasetsu one snowy night, chasing a half-formed dream and new inspiration. The competition was held in Tokyo over a weekend. Victor watched Yuuri closely as the date loomed closer and closer, watching for any cracks that might indicate Yuuri’s anxiety and self-doubt rearing its ugly head. But Yuuri stayed remarkably calm and composed until the day they departed for the capital, his family promising they’d watch the stream.

 

“ _Wait_ ,” Yuuri jerked in his seat, jolting Victor out of a light doze. He couldn’t help it, the soothing rocking of the train always lulled him to sleep. “Victor, we’re too early. The short program won’t start for another two days. We’re a day early.”

 

Victor had to physically bite his cheek to keep from smiling. “I’m well aware. But we’re taking a detour. A day trip before the competition, if you will.”

 

Yuuri looked confused. “What do you mean? Where are we going? I’m not sure that’s a good idea right before a big competition.” Victor supposed he had a point. Maybe he should have avoided anything potentially stressful or physically exerting, but Victor had a plan.

 

“It’s a surprise, Yuuri. A thank you gift, for being a wonderful student over these past few months. Don’t worry, you will be perfectly rested before the competition and if you absolutely hate it we can go back to the hotel and just relax at the pool. Is that okay?”

 

Yuuri didn’t take long to be persuaded. “Alright, I trust you. It wasn’t expensive, was it?”

 

“Wonderful!” Victor didn’t hide his grin this time, and dodged the question about the price. “I hope you’ll like it!” He fell asleep again after their exchange, waking up an indiscriminate amount of time later by Yuuri gently tapping his shoulder and taking his hand to pull him up. Yuuri was in charge of finding their hotel on his phone while Victor carried the bags, weighed down by costumes and makeup.

 

Yuuri handled checking in, and Victor looked around the lobby with a critical eye. It wasn’t up to the standard they’d receive in the Grand Prix circuit, but it was still nice. Especially for the price and its excellent location in the heart of the city. Their room was on the fifth floor and had a beautiful view of the inside of an office building. Two twin beds sat on opposite sides of the room separated by a nightstand, and the bathroom was small but neat.

 

Victor immediately made a beeline for the shower. Sitting on a train for hours and sleeping in the middle of the day always made him feel grimy. It was a relief to rinse off. He exited the bathroom in his towel, steam billowing behind him.

 

“We’re going to have to wake up pretty early tomorrow, so you may want to shower tonight,” Victor said as he bent over his suitcase, rummaging around for pajamas.

 

“How early?” Yuuri asked, already moving to grab his toiletry bag even though he usually preferred to shower in the morning. He was finally unfazed about Victor’s nudity, his eyes only occasionally snagging on his mark, bold and black across his ribcage.

 

“We need to be in a taxi by 7, no later. We can eat at our destination. So, as long as you can be ready by 6:45, you can sleep however late you want.” Victor could almost hear Yuuri’s groan. He was a night owl, and hated getting up early, despite being forced to for years now to make early practices. “So it’ll be an early night. I’ll be able to see if you’re on your phone until 2 am.”

 

Yuuri playfully snapped a towel at him as he retreated to the bathroom, pajamas bunched under his arm. Yuuri may have opened up in the months they’d known each other, but he was still shy in many aspects. He wouldn’t parade around Victor naked, for one thing.

 

By the time Yuuri emerged from his shower Victor was already relaxing in bed, scrolling lazily through his Twitter feed.

 

“Seriously? It’s not even 8:30.” Yuuri shook his head in mock disapproval. “Old man.”

 

“Yuuri,” Victor screeched, sitting upright and putting his phone down. “You take that back!”

 

“Make me,” Yuuri said, eyes flashing playfully. Victor sprang up, scrambling to untangle himself from his mountain of sheets and throw pillows. Yuuri shrieked as he bolted to the other side of the room, trying to hide behind a lamp. When that proved ineffective he leapt to his own bed and grabbed a pillow, swinging it in a wide arc in front of him. “Stay back,” he cried, “I’m armed.”

 

Victor got a face-full of feathers when he tried to move closer. Growing desperate, he too grabbed a pillow and started blindly swinging, sometimes making contact with Yuuri’s pillow and sometimes Yuuri himself if his pained grunts were anything to go by.

 

They were both laughing uncontrollably when Victor finally managed to tackle Yuuri to the bed, sitting on his legs while he repeated hit Yuuri with his pillow. Gently, of course. Occasionally Yuuri would try to raise his arms to ward off the attacks, but he was so breathless from laughing Victor broke through his defenses easily.

  
“Say mercy, say mercy,” Victor chanted, easing up slightly. He didn’t want to smother Yuuri, after all. Just get him to admit that Victor was the superior pillow fighter. And he wasn’t old, dammit. Plenty of respectable young people these days turned the lights off by 9.

 

“Never,” Yuuri wailed, eyes slightly wet from excursion and humor, gasses lost in the melee. Victor let him breathe for a moment, sitting back and gazing down as Yuuri tried desperately to catch his breath, his face bright red.

 

Victor didn’t realize he was leaning down, entranced by the gentle rise and fall of Yuuri’s chest, until Yuuri’s eyes suddenly refocused, pinning him in place and halting his advances. They were nose to nose, really. Yuuri’s eyes were big and brown and beautiful, blinking slowly as he realized how close Victor was. Closer than he had ever been before, even when they messed around in the bath, playfully demonstrating different “stretching techniques” that inexplicably required two people. 

 

Freezing, Victor realized what this looked like. He was straddling Yuuri in bed, pressing him down into the mattress. One of his hands loosely pinned Yuuri’s wrists above his head to ward off pillow attacks. It was just a safety precaution, of course. To make sure Yuuri wouldn’t break his nose or something.

 

Realizing Yuuri had to be uncomfortable, Victor had to restrain himself from violently jerking back. He didn’t want Yuuri to think he didn’t want to be close to him. Because he did. He definitely did. But he didn’t want to take advantage, and shouldn’t Yuuri make the first move? Victor was technically his authority figure as his coach. Or had Yuuri made the first move already, back at the banquet, and was waiting for Victor to take charge? It was so confusing.

 

Before he reached a conclusion, Yuuri closed his eyes and raised his face slightly, pressing their foreheads together softly. All the self-doubt and insecurity raging in Victor’s head quieted abruptly, leaving his ears ringing with white noise. His heart seemed to stutter to a stop before restarting at double its normal pace, blood pulsing in his fingertips and setting him on fire.

 

They stayed like that for a moment, months of tension and longing swirling between them, kindling for the explosion Victor could feel bubbling just beneath the surface. Their lips were so close together that if Victor moved just a hairsbreadth they’d be touching, gently pressed together. Months of fantasizing about what Yuuri’s lips tasted like would be answered, months of wondering if they would be warm or cool, soft or chapped.

 

A knock on the door started Victor so badly he jerked off Yuuri and fell off the bed entirely, landing on his back, the hard carpeting doing nothing to cushion his fall. “Management,” a clear voice rang followed by another sharp rap.

 

Yuuri stared at the door, mouth hanging open. His previously glazed eyes were clear once more, and they snapped to Victor accusingly. “I didn’t do anything!” he blurted immediately, breath finally returned after his ungraceful flop onto the floor.

 

Victor picked himself up and hobbled to his feet, clutching his lower back for drama. He walked to the door and opened it, revealing a stern looking woman wearing a hotel uniform and nametag.

 

“Good evening, sir,” she said in English. “I’m sorry, but we have received several noise complaints about your room. I’m going to have to ask you to keep it down.” Victor was mortified, wondering how loud their pillow fight must have had to been to warrant “multiple complaints.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” he groveled, throwing in an impromptu bow, “it won’t happen again.” The woman nodded as if to say _it better not_ , thanked him for his cooperation, and turned on her heel. Victor stood at the door for a minute, staring at her retreating back before allowing the door to naturally fall closed. He stood with his back to Yuuri for another moment, trying to compose himself and failing.

 

A muffled snort had him whirling around, shushing frantically. “Yuuri, if you start laughing again we’ll be out on the street! Then what would we do?” Victor tried to say seriously, voice cracking halfway through his declaration. “I’d be forced to sell drugs – or worse – my body, all so you could have a warm bed to sleep in.”

 

Yuuri buried his face in his comforter, shoulders shaking. He looked up eventually, lips pressed together tightly to stop a smile. “Can I be your pimp?” Victor shook his head and crawled into his own bed, chucking lowly, mindful of the apparently thin walls.

 

The atmosphere in the room was incredibly light, especially considering they had been _this close_ to making out before Mr. Manager Lady had interrupted them. Victor knew the mood was lost, but was thanking every deity he could think of that things weren’t awkward and Yuuri seemed to be a good sport about the whole thing.

 

“Goodnight, Yuuri,” Victor said quietly as he reached to turn off the light next to his bed.

 

“Night, Victor.” 

 

* * *

 

 

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor sang the next morning at 6:30. “It’s time to wake up.” When Yuuri stayed very much asleep, he sang, “Up, up, up,” over and over again as he moved around the hotel getting ready for the day. Coming his hair, selecting a scarf, and brushing his teeth. “Up, up, up.”

 

Unable to take it any longer, Yuuri rose with a groggy moan, palms rubbing his eyes. “Up!” Victor concluded, pleased with the results of off key chanting and repetition. 

 

Yuuri was ready 10 minutes later, looking stunning as usual, much to Victor’s chagrin. It took him 45 minutes to look presentable, and Yuuri could literally roll out of bed into his street clothes looking ready to walk a runway.

 

Yuuri was mostly quiet with the promise of breakfast, and stared unseeingly out the window as they drove out of the city. Victor knew from personal experience Yuuri needed a good half hour before he was ready to talk to people, and anything he said before 10 am couldn’t be held against him. He was so adorable.

 

By the time Yuuri finally perked up they were nearly there. Victor leaned over and covered Yuuri’s eyes abruptly, ignoring his flinch. “It’s a surprise, remember?” he laughed. “I don’t trust you not to peek. Just a few more minutes, and then we can get you some food.” As if agreeing with his statement Yuuri’s stomach made a terrifying rumbly noise.

 

Trying to keep Yuuri’s eyes covered and tip the taxi driver was a new kind of challenge, but one Victor was up for nonetheless. “Move your hand forward, down, to the left a little. Good, now reach forward and open the door. Okay, good, watch your head, good.” By the time Victor managed to maneuver them out of the cab the driver was huffing in impatience.

 

“Okay, I’m going to uncover your eyes now. Are you ready?”

 

“Yes,” Yuuri said, wiggling impatiently.

 

“Are you sure?” Victor teased, wanting to draw Yuuri’s suffering out for a bit longer.

 

“Victor!” Yuuri snapped, bringing his hands up to pry at Victor’s palms. Laughing good naturedly, Victor drew his hands back and watched Yuuri’s face light up first in confusion, then disbelief, and finally awe. “Is this . . . real?” he whispered, eyes big in childlike wonder.

 

Spread out before them was a vast parking lot, still mostly empty due to the early hour. But beyond the parking lot was a gate, and beyond the gate was the silhouette of a blue castle.

 

“Surprise!” Victor cried, just managing to stop himself from throwing out jazz hands. “What do you think?”

 

Yuuri didn’t speak for a moment, clearly overwhelmed. He collected himself quickly before bowing deeply and sincerely. “I cannot believe you brought me to Disneyland. Thank you!” Victor was touched, and grabbed Yuuri’s hand before setting off at a brisk pace towards the entrance.

 

“Well, let’s get in line. We have a full day, and I don’t want to waste it.”

 

“I’ve been to three of the parks,” Victor said as they slumped against the wall to be admitted to the park. There was an hour until opening and they were in the middle of the line. “The ones in California, Florida, and Paris. I want to get to all of them eventually, so this is great! Now I get to tick Tokyo off the list.”

 

Yuuri was swiveling his head around, greedily drinking in everything in sight. He’d only been to the park once, he told Victor, when he was a child. His parents had taken him and Mari when he was 8, and it was one of his fondest memories.

 

They debated movies and characters while they waited, their tastes differing significantly. Victor loved the classic fairytales, and his favorite movie was _Sleeping Beauty_. Yuuri loved anything from the 90s.

 

“Victor, she does _nothing_ ,” Yuuri whined. “She’s asleep for like half the film!”

 

“But her dress is so pretty,” Victor said dreamily. “I loved how it changed from blue to pink. And the fairies were so funny!”

 

Yuuri loved _The Lion King_ like nothing else. He watched it so often the VCR wore out when he was a child. His admiration was almost rabid. “Favorite song?” Victor asked offhandedly, growing excitedly as the crowd started to move forwards. The park was open.

 

“Um, probably _Circle of Life_. No, it’s actually _Can You Feel the Love Tonight_. But wait – ” Yuuri’s deliberation was postponed as they reached the front of the line, Victor procuring two tickets with glee and a flourish. They were admitted and swiftly followed the crowd inside.

 

“We need a game plan,” Victor said as he steered Yuuri out of the way of the masses. “Do you want to do rides, or eat, or just walk around?”

  
“Rides,” Yuuri said immediately, starting to walk down what was Main Street at Disneyworld. “Lots and lots of rides.”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri was insatiable. He wanted to do _everything_. Every ride, every restaurant, every booth. Victor had to tell him multiple times they only had so much time, and the second half of their day would be spent at DisneySea. Yuuri became even more frantic after that, practically sprinting through the streets, tapping his foot impatiently as they waited for food at the carts, and glaring threateningly at all the children ahead of them at the _Dumbo_ ride.

 

Victor got yelled at by an attendant with a microphone for attempting a selfie while the ride was in progress, and as a result was overtly suspicious of the other ride operators. Yuuri didn’t give him time to sulk, and instead dragged him to _It’s a Small World_.

 

“I hate this,” Victor whispered, fists clenched as they were secured into the boat. “This is my least favorite ride. It’s so creepy.”

 

“They’re just dolls,” Yuuri laughed. “How bad can it be?” His question was answered several minutes later as they exited the ride, the haunting melody of the song reverberating through their skulls. “I take it back,” Yuuri said tonelessly, shaking Victor by the shoulders as he started to hum the chorus. “No,” Yuuri said firmly.  

 

“Yuuri!” Victor gasped, “Is that Pluto?” Yuuri looked to where Victor was pointing. A big yellow dog stood by a fenced off barrier, an employee standing beside them. Children were rapidly forming a line, chattering excitedly and pulling on their parents’ sleeves.

 

“We have to go!” without making sure Yuuri was still with him, Victor took off to get a spot in the growing line.

 

“You don’t think they restrict pictures to just the kids, right?” Victor asked nervously as they slowly inched closer to Pluto. “We’ve already spent 10 minutes in line, and we only have a maximum of 2 more hours at this park before we head over to the other one.”

 

“I’m sure he takes pictures with adults too, Victor,” Yuuri soothed. They were only a few people away from the front. “Do you want me in the picture too?”

 

“Of course,” Victor said, looking at Yuuri strangely. Why wouldn’t he want Yuuri in the picture? “C ask him if he can sign an autograph for Makkachin? He’s a big fan.”

 

Yuuri humored him, and asked “Pluto” if he would sign an autograph, neglecting to mention that it was for a dog. They took their picture, Victor shook Pluto’s hand, and they rushed off.

 

“Space Mountain took longer than I anticipated,” Victor muttered, squinting at his watch. They had time for one more popular ride or two minor ones before they had to leave for DisneySea. “What do you want to do, this is your day?”

 

Yuuri looked down at the map he’d picked up from an information kiosk and studied it thoughtfully. “I think we should do either _Splash Mountain_ or _Pirates of the Caribbean_. Which do you like best?”

 

“Up to you,” Victor said. Yuuri growled in frustration. He hated being the decisive one. “ _Pirates of the Caribbean_ I guess because I didn’t go on that last time. My mom thought it would be too scary or something.”

 

“Yo ho, yo ho,” Victor sang all the way to the ride, “A pirate’s life for me.” He noticed Yuuri giving him strange looks. “The song isn’t as bad as _It’s a Small World_ , but it’s close.”

 

“That was the best,” Yuuri gushed after the ride finished. “I’ve never seen the movies, but it was so fun! And the song was catchy but not annoying.”

 

Yuuri hummed the tune as they made their way towards the monorail that would take them to DisneySea. Victor was excited; he wondered if it would be like Sea World, or an aquarium. They were passing one of the big gift shops when Victor realized he still needed to get souvenirs for his friends. “Yuuri, do you mind if we stop in here?” he asked, gesturing to the brightly colored shop, stuffed animals and princess costumes featured in the window.

 

Yuuri shook his head and followed Victor into the store. It was a mistake; it was packed with people, children were crying, and there was so much merchandise it overflowed the shelves and pooled on the floor. Victor gingerly stepped over a toppled display of Donald Duck figurines. He wrinkled his nose as a baby started crying, its wails reverberating unpleasantly in the small shop. Victor wrinkled his nose. He disliked children, to put it mildly. Too sticky and too loud.

 

He scrapped his idea of souvenir shopping almost immediately. Carrying around an armload of purchases through a theme park didn’t sound too fun, either. Turning to tell Yuuri he was ready to leave, something caught his eye and made him pause. A rack of Mickey Mouse ears was right by the door.

  
“Yuuri,” Victor called. Yuuri looked up from where he’d been looking at keychains. “Do you want to get a pair?” Yuuri walked over and saw the iconic hat. He smiled and nodded, looking at the different styles.

 

“Which kind do you want?” he asked, hands hovering over one that was printed to look like R2D2.

 

“I want to be Minnie, of course,” Victor said, picking up ears with a big pink and white bow in the center. “It’s even the same color as my old free skate costume,” he said, flicking the bow playfully. “Which one do you want?”

 

Yuuri looked over the options seriously, lingering over the plain, traditional black. He walked around to the back and crouched down. Scanning the shelf intently for a moment, Yuuri stood up with a hat in his hands triumphantly. It was identical to Victor’s, but with a light blue bow. “I love it,” Victor said, grabbing both the hats and rushing to the register to check out, mindful of the time.

 

“Let’s get a picture super quick,” Victor said as they left the store. He dug into the bag and fished out the mouse ears. He plopped Yuuri’s onto his head, adjusting it slightly. “You look so cute,” Victor muttered almost angrily under his breath, tearing his eyes away from his soulmate reluctantly and striding up to a teenage girl standing a safe distance from her parents. Teenage girls were Victor’s preferred demographic if he ever needed a picture taken. They knew how to work phones, and their hands were steady, unlike anyone born before the 1980s.

 

“Excuse me, can you take a picture of us?” Victor had no idea if his Japanese was correct, or even understandable, but she seemed to get the gist, and nodded enthusiastically, walking away from her family without a backwards glance. Victor pulled Yuuri close to him, draping his arm over Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri snaked his arm around Victor’s waist and tilted his head towards Victor’s shoulder.

 

“Yuri, ask her if she can see the castle,” Victor said, suddenly worried. Yuuri asked, and even Victor could understand “hai.”

 

“Thank you so much,” Victor smiled, examining the picture with a critical eye. It was perfect; Cinderella’s castle, the manicured flowers, and Yuuri wearing Minnie Mouse ears. That would be going on Instagram as soon as they found a quiet place to stop and take a breather.

 

The monorail that linked Disneyland and DisneySea was smooth and efficient, much like the rest of Japan’s public transit system. Yuuri held onto the back of Victor’s shirt to make sure he didn’t tip over as he debated whether or not to use a filter, or to use a hashtag. “Yuuri, give me a funny caption,” Victor demanded, swaying dangerously as the train turned a corner.

 

“I don’t know, _Sleeping Beauty is boring and The Lion King is awesome_ or something like that.” Victor squawked in indignation before the train stopped, the crush of people moving them towards the exit.

 

“Ok, the animation was revolutionary,” Victor said, “Besides, _The Lion King_ is so overrated.” Yuuri’s outraged gasp was swallowed by a series of screams. They whirled around, spotting a large crowd congregating in front of a statue of Mickey Mouse. “Oh my god,” Victor breathed. “Is that . . . ”

 

It was. A flash mob had spontaneously broken out in front of them, people whirling and twirling around a couple in the center of the chaos. The man knelt on one knee, clearly proposing. Victor clutched Yuuri’s arm, entranced. He cheered wildly with the rest of the bystanders, clapping wildly enough for his Minnie ears to tilt dangerously to the left.

 

“We should congratulate them!” Victor said, standing on his tiptoes to see over the still dancing crowd.

 

“Victor, we don’t know them,” Yuuri said, smiling at the dancers. “And I’m sure they’ll have plenty of well-wishers without us.” Victor eventually allowed Yuuri to drag him away from the spectacle, neck craned until they turned a corner and the mob disappeared.

 

“That was so cute!” Victor sighed, casually slipping his arm through Yuuri’s as they navigated the crowds. It was busier at this park, even more families loitering around and weaving haphazardly across the walkways. They wandered into a restaurant in the _Mediterranean Harbor_ , a small Italian place that catered less to tired parents and their brats and more to adults that desperately wanted to relive their childhood.

 

They sat at a small round table for two artfully draped in a white table cloth. A single candle flickered between them. Victor ordered them lemonade, mindful that nationals were tomorrow, and Yuuri was always slightly tentative about alcohol, to say the least.

 

“This reminds me of _Lady and the Tramp_ ,” Yuuri mussed as he scanned the menu. “Should I get spaghetti?”

 

“Yes,” Victor said immediately. “Besides, it’s good carbs for tomorrow.” They both laughed as the waitress came back and took their dinner orders. It was still early, but they wanted to walk around the park before fireworks, and Victor was determined to buy at least one thing for Yurio, hopeful that something cute and soft would heal the rift between them.

 

“Favorite princess?” Victor asked while they waited for their food.

 

“Mulan. She was so awesome, saving China and everything,” Yuuri said. “I’ll ask you, but only if you don’t say Aurora.”

 

“She’s not even my favorite, I just like her movie,” Victor protested. “I loved Jasmine when I was a kid. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen,” he said seriously. “For a few years I thought she was my soulmate.” Yuuri laughed and took a sip of his drink.

 

“Do you think they have free refills?” Yuuri asked worriedly as his lemonade dwindled steadily.

 

“Don’t worry about it, you can get as many refills as you want,” Victor said, wondering why Yuuri would be silly enough to worry about money on a day that was clearly all about him.

 

“Oh, I’m paying for this meal,” Yuuri said firmly. “You’ve done more than enough for me today. I don’t know how much tickets were for the both of us, but I’m going to pay you back, I swear. So, the least I can do for the time being is pay for dinner.”

 

Victor was touched, and didn’t bother to say there was no chance in hell he’d take Yuuri’s money. It would ruin the mood. He wanted to reach across the table and take Yuuri’s hand, but Yuuri had his elbows pressed to the table, palms cupping both his cheeks. He gazed at Victor with an unreadable expression, eyes warm and lips parted. Victor couldn’t hold eye contact; it was like staring into the sun.

 

“Who’s your favorite animal sidekick?” Victor asked suddenly, uncomfortable with the weight of his feelings. He knew Yuuri needed more time, and that he probably wasn’t as comfortable with his feelings as Victor was yet. But sometimes Yuuri would act in confusing ways. Lingering touches here and there while training. Not turning away when Victor stripped in the bath. Pressing their foreheads together after an erotic pillow fight. Or gazing tenderly at Victor’s lips across a candlelit table in Disneyland.

 

By the time their food arrived Victor had moved the conversation back to his still unposted picture. “You’re normally good at captions,” Victor said as he cut into his chicken. It smelled delightful. “Think harder.”

 

“I don’t know,” Yuuri mumbled around a mouthful of pasta. There was a streak of sauce on the corner of his mouth. Victor wanted to lick it off.

 

“It’s so much pressure,” Victor mussed, “because there’s no way anything we come up with will be as cute as the picture.”

 

“Then don’t have a caption.” Yuuri swallowed a large bit and took a long sip of lemonade. They did have free refills, much to his delight. “Let it speak for itself.”

 

Victor decided to drop it. He’d think of something later. Victor paid for their dinner through sheer willpower and the speed of digging his credit card out of his wallet. The sun was just starting to set, and Victor knew the fireworks would begin soon. “Yuuri, the fireworks probably won’t be done until 9, and the ride back to the hotel will take a while. Do you want to leave early? We don’t have to be at the rink tomorrow until 11 but I don’t want you to be tired.”

 

“Victor, we are _not_ leaving before the fireworks.” Yuuri’s tone made him feel stupid, as if he suggested they quit figure skating and take up hockey instead. “I want to go on the gondola ride and then we should find a spot to watch the show from.”

 

Victor readily agreed. They stood in line to board the boats in comfortable silence. Yuuri was seated at the end of one of the benches, and Victor sat next to a queasy looking child. Victor desperately hoped he wouldn’t be sick; his shoes were real leather. Yuuri discreetly entwined their fingers together, leaning onto Victor’s shoulder as the boat departed from the docks. Victor had no idea what the guide was saying. The kid next to him could have thrown up in his lap for all he knew. The only thing he could focus on was the soft press of Yuuri’s palm against his and the comforting weight on his shoulder.

 

The ride could have been a minute or an hour, Victor wasn’t sure. Time seemed to warp into this strange, incomprehensible concept where seconds were measured by Yuuri’s breath and minutes were the soft involuntary squeezes to Victor’s hand when they hit a rough patch of water. By the time they pulled back into the dock Victor’s brain was scrambled; all he could think about was Yuuri.

 

They exited the boat and Yuuri let go of his hand. Victor tried to pluck up the courage to reconnect their hands but failed. He knew PDA wasn’t something Yuuri was comfortable with, and he didn’t want to make things awkward, not when everything was going so perfectly.

 

“Let’s go this way,” Yuuri pointed, “There’s only a little while until the fireworks begin and it looks a little less crowded.” Victor nodded and followed Yuuri’s lead. They wandered away from the Venice style section of the park and into an area called _The American Waterfront._ 1920s style New York City greeted them as they walked through archways, a big streetcar rumbling past them on a track. It was much less busy, and Victor breathed a sigh of relief.

 

A brass band started playing just ahead of them, jazz music blaring from a slightly elevated platform. Couples started to migrate to the open space in front of the stage, some dancing slowly with their arms around each other, while others went at it alone, energetically bopping around.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor said before he knew what was happening. “Dance with me.” They hadn’t danced together since that night at the banquet, the night everything in Victor’s life changed. His hand trembled as he held it out, not sure what he would do if Yuuri refused.

 

Yuuri took it without hesitation, feet light and sure. Their dance wasn’t an energized tango or a silly freestyle like last time. It was tender, Yuuri’s arms looped around Victor’s neck, Victor’s palms pressed firmly into Yuuri’s hips, holding him close. Yuuri smelled like sunshine and strawberry bubblegum and Italian food. But most of all he smelled like home.

 

A voice came over the park’s speakers, talking rapidly. The band lowered their volume but continued to play, low and soothing in the background. Victor didn’t need to ask Yuuri what the disembodied voice had said because a moment later a flash of blue and red erupted overhead, sparks trailing down dreamily. The fireworks had started.

 

They stopped dancing, standing stationary as the band continued to play, other couples moving around them. Their faces were turned to the sky, mouths slack in amazement. Yuuri’s eyes perfectly reflected the flashing light, glittering like the barely visible stars. Victor wanted to kiss him. In that moment Victor wanted Yuuri more fervidly than he’d ever wanted another gold medal.

 

As if reading his mind, Yuuri’s eyes locked with his, gleaming. And then he was leaning in. All the air left Victor’s lungs as Yuuri tilted his face up, as close as they were last night. But there was no stern woman with a clipboard to ruin their moment now. Yuuri kissed Victor for the first time under a sky full of fireworks as the band played on.

 

* * *

 

Later, lying in bed unable to sleep, listening to Yuuri quietly dream, Victor pulled up Instagram. He looked at the picture for a long time. Yuuri’s head tilted towards him, his arm draped possessively around Yuuri. Their matching mouse ears, the absurdly big smiles on both their faces. How genuinely happy he looked, happier than he’d ever been in his life. Maybe Yuuri was right. He’d let the picture speak for itself. With a heart emoji or ten, of course.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow did I just blatantly work in the title of the story? Heck yes. HMU on [tumblr](http://im-so-effing-dead.tumblr.com)


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